I Need You With Me As I Flee the Storm
by Micky-kun
Summary: A new enemy has been killing off the nations, and America has organized a meeting to create a revolt against said enemy. What happens when the enemy finds them? And what happens when China takes the blame for it? Slight RoChu, Spamano, GerIta, and USUK.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow, I have a tendency to use Hetalia for writing projects in school... Well, it makes for good fanfiction! This one is for English, and I'm not even done yet ^-^. This is going to be the first multi-chapter fanfictions that I'm going to complete! It makes me happy :3. **

**The other chapters probably won't be this long, though they might be, I dunno. So enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, if I did I'd already have Russia screwing China- Imeanwhat?  
**

All the nations gathered around the long table of the World Summit meeting, all in their military uniforms. Each country sat in their respective chair. America across from England, and Canada was next to him. France sat next to England, much to the latter nation's dismay, and Japan was on his other side, with Greece not too far off. Switzerland and Austria sat next to each other, across from France and Japan. Poland sat two chairs down from Austria. China was seated next to Poland, and Russia unfortunately was seated right on his other side. Across from Russia were the Italy brothers, otherwise known as Northern Italy and Romano. Next to Romano was Spain, who had Finland and Sweden -the only 'official' married couple out of all the nations- sitting not too far from them. At the head of the table was Germany, as he was the only one who could hold order in the meetings. Past the seated chairs taken by the nations, were multiple empty chairs, which used to be filled not too long ago, but their holders disappeared.

Without anyone's recognition, America started off the meeting. "So listen up everyone! This problem clearly isn't going to stop itself, so we need a solution," the man started off, his words unusually calm. Everyone leaned forward as he talked. "What we need… is a hero! If we have that hero, he can block the world from their brainwashing!" Their heads fell as the American drew a picture of Superman holding the world in his hands on the chalkboard. Same old America, always thinks he's the hero.

America was a man with blond hair with a stray lock sticking up on his head, otherwise known as an ahoge. The man wore a tan military uniform with a brown bomber jacket over it. On the back of the jacket was the number "50" in bold print. What stuck out most about this man, other than the hamburgers he seemed to pull out of nowhere, were his blue eyes. When he was younger, they shone like the stars on his country's flag, even know, in their darkest times, they shone with justice.

As America continued to rant about his far from logical idea, England stood up from his seat. It was his job to keep America in line, not that it was in his job description or anything. Think of it more of an older brother instinct, as he helped raise America since he was a baby. Yes, England was America's older brother. Actually, he found America as a baby playing off in the fields on his land. Back then, the baby nation was adorable - too adorable to have England resist taking him into his house. In the end, America was then noted as England's brother. Unfortunately, because England had a bad sense of taste, America gained that same sense -creating his unhealthy craving for fast foods.

Even though England was older than America, he was shorter, though it was barely noticeable -only a two centimeter difference. He didn't look like America either, as they weren't related by blood. England had thick, thick, thick eyebrows, often mistaken for caterpillars. Though, the two nations shared the same blond hair, but England's was much messier, and he wore a green military uniform. Hidden under the uniform were guns that were used only in cases of emergency.

With eyes flaring like green fire, England pinched the American's ear and started to drag him away, "You bloody twit, that's one of the most idiotic schemes you've ever came up with! You brainless, egotistical, pain-in-the-arse wanker!" Ever since _they_ moved into his land, England had been more irritable. _They_ did the unspeakable and changed the whole nutrition of the British foods. The last person who did that, an American man with a cholesterol level the size of Russia, ended up in a war with him. However, America seemed oblivious to his words as he pulled a hamburger out of his jacket pocket and shoved it down his throat, followed up with a soda from McDonalds.

"Hey, hey, Old Man, you need to seriously chill out, this plan is flawless," the blue-eyed man patted the older nation on the back, who growled at his words.

"I will not 'chill out' you twat! Take this issue seriously for once!" England started to shake America by the shoulders. Another man with wavy blond hair couldn't help but spy on their fight, as there was no other form of entertainment in the room.

Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as France, smirked at the sight of America and England fighting. It was entertaining for him to watch those nations fight, as it usually resulted to the two of them exchanging insults, as they were now. When England started to jump up and down in anger, he pulled a red rose out from the pocket of his blue overcoat. He rose from the table and walked over to his favorite nation of all time, England. Despite the rivalry the two have, France always had a soft spot for England, note the sarcasm, he just... couldn't express it well.

"You should watch your language towards young Alfred," France said, wrapping an arm around the American, using his human name, "After all, wasn't it you who raised him?"

England grounded his teeth in irritation. "Watch it you French toad! At least I don't go around trying to pick up any living creature I see on the street!"

"Like you could," scoffed France, "You're just a punk. Oh, you may hide it underneath all of that clothing, but deep down you're nothing more than a delinquent, a trouble maker... a pirate."

"Shut the bloody hell up you bloody git!" England leaped from his place of kicking America in the stomach to strangling France. Meanwhile, America laughed at the scene before him. It was a huge shocker for him to hear that his 'older brother' was a pirate. Then again, he had heard rumors from Spain that the two used to duke it out on pirate ships, until the English nation finally whooped his 'arse' in a battle of canons.

While the blond countries were in the middle of a wrestling match, with America cheering from the sidelines, those seated looked upon then with a look of pure irritation. Was it really a time for the _original_ nations to be fighting? No, it was a time for them to prepare for war!

Eventually, a golden-skinned man stood up from his seat, eyes closed while trying to keep his temper under control. In his hand was a bowl of food - snacks from his own country. "You three, eat some snacks and calm down, aru!" It was his way of creating peace; through food. His country did take pride in the food they made. A perfect blend of herbs and spices, aru.

The fighting men replied, "Don't want any." The golden-skinned man sighed and returned to his seat.

That man was China, or to the other countries, Wang Yao. And even though he was older than four-thousand years, he looked younger than twenty. With his black hair tied back into a ponytail, large golden eyes, and round face, he could've easily been mistaken for a woman. A certain Russian did so when the two first met. Let's just say China has held a grudge ever since. He never let things slide easily, which was why he couldn't trust Japan as his little brother any more.

When China sat back down, a gloved hand patted his shoulder. He turned around to come face-to-face with a pale-skinned, blond-headed man. "Aiyaaah! Russia, I've told you not to touch me, aru!"

"But Yao-Yao," the man replied, "I have no one left to torment now that Lithuania and Latvia are gone, _dа_." The man apologized, though through the apology his violet eyes glinted mischievously. Underneath the table, the man gripped a bloodied water pipe, but while he was seated in front of the other nations, he held a kind smile.

That man was one nation you wouldn't want to upset. He was Russia. A man with a soft smile and an innocent face. Underneath that all was a mind that loved to torment. Back in the olden times of the Soviet Union, Russia was able to order the smaller nations what to do. They would follow his orders without question. If they didn't, they were considered dead the next day. First time the nations met Russia, they instantly knew to never, _ever_, anger him, it was an unspoken law. Though, no one could tell what he was thinking, as his eyes were hard to read.

At the sight of Russia's smile, China stiffened. After years of the Russian nation pursuing him to "become one with mother Russia, _dа_" he knew how to read the man. He knew well enough when the taller country was ready to break his friendly exterior. He knew when the taller nation was ready to let his sadistic side take over. It had been seconds since the Russian man talked, and his smile was slowly disappearing. If China didn't respond, a passer-by would see a long-haired, hazel-eyed, Chinese man in the gutter, body beaten to a bloody pulp with a water pipe not too far from the body the next day.

Able to put a small, and shaky, smile on his face, China faced Russia respectfully. "Yes, it's a shame they're gone. Estonia, Belarus, and Ukraine are gone was well aren't they? Your house must be empty, aru."

"_Da_, it is empty. It is... Lonely, as their cries of suffering aren't echoing in the halls anymore. Quite lonely_, da_," Russia looked down at the table, suddenly finding the wooden surface interesting. Inwardly, China panicked. A sad _Russia_. Russia, _sad_. Russia _was_ sad. Not good.

China hesitantly patted Russia on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Aiyah, maybe you should visit my house Russia, aru," he offered hurriedly, trying to calm the nation down. In response Russia's eyes lightened up. He looked like a little kid who just got a puppy. What a relief.

"That would be very nice of you Yao-Yao, _da_," Russia's mood suddenly switched to anger, "But do you even mean it? After all, all you call me is Russia. I thought we were friends Yao-Yao. If you really want me to visit your house, then call me by my real name." That man, always trying to get closer to him. After Russia finished talking, China made a mental note to keep a safe distance for when they returned to his house.

"Oh, sorry... Ivan. I had no idea that offended you. My deepest apologies, aru." That made Ivan smile, and he clasped China on the shoulder. He shouted something in his native tongue, and returned his attention to two men who sat across from him. Two new targets; the Italy brothers. China followed Russia's eyes and sighed. _"Oh no,"_ he thought to himself, _"May their god have mercy on their souls." _Even though it was none of his business, and because there was nothing else to do in the meeting, the older nation watched Ivan interact with the Italy brothers.

Italy was doing his normal business among meetings. Which mostly included daydreaming about pasta, as most Italians did. He hoped to make a big batch of pasta for Germany and himself. Luckily the two of them patched up their relationship after World War II. Italy was so sure that he'd never be friends with the muscular nation ever again, especially since he surrendered to the Allied Forces in the end. Those worries were cast aside though. China was glad to see the two friends again, though it didn't go unnoticed that they weren't as close.

"That _neve bastardo maledetto_," his brother Romano muttered next to him. Oh, he was mad again. Though, it was usual. The two had been stuck in the room for what seemed like eternity. Actually, it was close to eternity, as the nations had been locked in the summit meeting since _they_ infiltrated their countries. There was no where else for them to go, so they've been cooped up. China knew that the older of the two brothers hated being next to Spain for more than an hour. Romano originally never went to World Summit meetings, as his brother was the country of Italy. Though, when _they_ invaded, Italy forced Germany to allow him to attend.

It boggled his mind how the two Italy brothers were completely different in personality, even though they were the same nation, and the only brothers directly related by blood. Though, he guessed it was expected. Since the two were kids, after the fall of the Roman Empire, they were governed differently. Italy was originally taken away from his home to live with his grandpa Rome, where he learned art and cooking. After Rome fell, Italy was taken over by Austria. Meanwhile, Romano was taken under the care of their older brother Spain.

Speaking of Spain, the curly haired nation was leaning back in his chair, in a similar position as Greece, who was sleeping next to Japan. The Spaniard appeared to be lost in thought. Well, he looked lost in thought, but for all China knew, he could've been asleep as well. Just seeing the people around him sleep was causing his eyelids to droop. Anyways, China averted his eyes back to the Italy brothers.

"Hey, _Fratello_, when do you think we can come home, ve?" Italy leaned into his brother's personal space. China groaned when he saw the younger of the two try to bombard the older with simply annoying questions. The anger on Romano's face completely flew over Italy's head. The younger half of Italy just couldn't read the atmosphere. Never could, and most likely never will. Sure, he liked the Italian nation for their food, but they were difficult to put up with. They couldn't respect their elders, couldn't be in a fight without waving a white flag within the first five minutes, and only slept when it came to working. Not that he'd say that out loud. No, China would keep his thoughts to himself. No need to start another war, nope.

As the two brothers conversed, a shadow appeared behind them. It stretched to the ceiling, and the only features visible were the violet eyes that bore down on them. A voice chuckled in their ears, "_Kol kol kol kol._" The eyes of the brothers widened, and they turned around to face the shadow, expecting a monster. Instead of a terrifying monster trying to eat their souls, the shadow turned out to be Russia. Not that there was much of a difference.

"You two forget your worries and become one with mother Russia. It is destined, _da_." The more he talked, the more the Italy brothers squirmed, even Romano. Yes, under the tough, constantly swearing exterior, he couldn't stand fights, let alone being in the same breathing space as Russia. No nation was more intimidating, as he was the tallest out of all nations, and who couldn't forget what happened to Latvia when he accidentally forgot to pick up his dry cleaning.

"U-U-Uh, R-R-Russia, h-h-how nice t-to s-s-see y-y-ou," Italy managed to stutter while shaking like a leaf. Romano wasn't in a much better state, though he could at least look at Russia's face, while Italy just closed his eyes. The younger was on the verge to tears. Oh yeah, he was a bit of a cry-baby too.

Seeing their distress, Russia only smiled more, "What's wrong? Surely you too are happy to see me, da?" In response the brothers just cried out, though the other nations made no move to help them. After all, Russia was just being Russia. It was a nice change from the robotic state he had been in for the past few weeks.

"Aiyaah! Ivan! Stop trying to harass Italy and Romano, aru!" China had reached his limit and wanted the two brothers to stop crying. "If you keep this up, another war will break out! We can't risk losing any more countries! Look at what we've got left, aru!" A hand swept over the other nations, gesturing the low number of people there. Normally, there would've been hundreds of nations there. No one could hold one conversation at a time because of it. Now, even the deafest of nations could hear a pin drop in the room.

Russia just smiled at China. "Alright, _da_. I'll stop, but eventually they'll come to me, for it is destined for all nations to become one with mother Russia," he concluded then sat back down at his seat. Finally, aru.

Apparently Germany seemed to have reached his limit also, for he stood up from his chair. "LISTEN UP!" His voice echoed through the meeting room. The roar even broke apart England and France from their fighting, even America stopped from stuffing his face with hamburgers. "Okay, we all know the tragedy that has swept across our lands. Our friends and family have all passed away, and it's been a terrible loss," at his words all nations looked at the hands in their laps. They've all lost family. Lichtenstein, the adoptive sister of Switzerland passed away not too long ago, and Austria's wife, Hungary ended up in the same fate. The two nation's couldn't hold their land together, so the old-friends-turned-enemies were forced to join houses. Though the bonds of the houses in the Soviet Union died off long before, they continued to keep in touch with Russia -let's just say he had a… very effective way of persuading someone. Even Russia's sisters, Belarus and Ukraine died off as well. Taiwan, Korea, and Thailand, the younger brothers and sisters to China were killed. Then there was Germany's older brother, Prussia, who was the first to die.

Germany continued, "We need to drive these murderers off our land, off the world! We need a plan, and not some childhood fantasy of an inhuman superhero America. A real plan. We need to build up our numbers, but we need to find a way how. _They_ have found our strength. That we depend on each other. Though they see that as a weakness, and they plan to take each one of us out because of it. Anyone, we need a plan. We need to sto-" his words were cut off, as the doors that lay to the side of the room burst open, a strong gust of wind filled the room, knocking all the nations out of their seats and onto the floor. They all cried in surprise and shielded their eyes from the debris of leaves and wood.

A man clad entirely in a medieval suit of armor entered the room. Spikes protruded from the shoulder, knee, and elbow plates of the suit, and the metal was entirely black. A red cape billowed behind him, China could've sworn he was the new age of Spartans. The man in the armor had hair that seemed to defy gravity. Blood-red eyes scanned the room, power seemed to radiate from them. Metal clanked against metal as the armored man stood in front of Germany's feet.

That man, he was leader of _them._ _Their_ name was unknown, for no one spoke of it. When _they_ arrived, _they_ just knew what _they _were. _They_ were "_Narcisistica bastardi egoisti_" according to Romano: narcissistic selfish bastards. When seeing them for the first time, the only thought China had was "How dare they disrespect their elders, aru!" For they had knocked the old nation over while he was shopping for noodles. That wasn't even the worst of it. The worst happened when_ they_ started to kill those who didn't obey his rules. And those people were - yep, you guessed it, the nations.

The Leader looked at the nations once again, his eyes turned into slits in a glare. China cringed, he's seen that glare once before. And if he had a choice to either be stabbed by thousands of knives, or have that man glare at him, he'd choose the knives.

His voice rang out, and the walls shook violently at his words. "To whoever assembled this meeting shall be punished." From the back of his head China heard Italy choke back a sob. "Well then, who was it?"

**A/N: First part done! And I do not know Italian, I used an online translator. Gaaah, so much more to write _, I hope I get this done before Monday (that's when it's due). **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay so.. chapter 2! I was originally planning to keeping this fanfic a family fic, since this is for my English homework, and I have no idea if my teacher is comfortable with reading guys kiss and what not. I couldn't help but let a little bit of RoChu creep in... **

No one answered the man, they didn't want to give him America away. Yes, America did bring the nations together. He said it was his 'justicedar' was going off, and they needed to revolt. How the word got out, no one knew.

China looked at America. The beads of sweat was visible on his forehead, and they dripped down onto his chin. There was panic in his eyes, an emotion not familiar to the pigheaded nation. Swimming through his head was the same question that lay in everyone else's, _"Is he going to die?" _

The Leader tapped his foot against the floor. "Well? Answer me!"

Just as America was about to stand up, a sudden reflex rushed through China. The Asian nation soon found himself standing, and all eyes were on him. He looked at the Leader with calm and steady eyes, much unlike before. The

"I did, aru," China answered the man. One by one the nation's eyes looked at the back of China's uniform, unable to look at him directly. The oldest nation knew what they wanted to ask. "Was he serious?" Yes, dead serious. China was standing up for America, more of taking the blame, no matter how hard it was to believe. Even he didn't believe his own words, but it seemed the Leader did. A smirk grew on the tanned face, then he turned around and started to walk out of the room. The wind picked up as he stopped to talk to China.

"You know the rules: don't revolt against the almighty God of all that is Ego. For that, you **will** be punished," and with a vortex of leaves surrounding him, the Leader disappeared.

With his legs wobbling, China sat back down in a chair, head in hands, eyes wide with disbelief. Did he really just do that? Sure, America didn't deserve to be punished, as he was only looking out for his friends. Even though he never had the best plan, he had good intentions. Besides, deep down he knew that England still considered America a brother, no matter how much they fought. China had no family left over, all of his was dead.

"C-China," Italy stifled a sob as he shuffled his way over to his fellow nation, "Are you going t-to.. d-die?" No one answered his question, and his eyes filled up with tears. Soon, rivers of salty liquid flowed out of his eyes.

"Man up _bambino_*," Romano waved a hand lazily at Italy. His shoulder was then slapped by Spain, who looked at his little brother sadly before turning his gaze to China. Romano huffed and turned away, the stray curl in his auburn hair bounced as he steamed with anger. He wasn't angry at his brother, China concluded in his thoughts, he was simply mad at the ridiculous rules the Leader made up. Even the elder country had to admit, they were quite unreasonable.

"What are you going to do China?" England asked softly before he was interrupted by America.

"I say you flee the country then make a heroic comeback like in the movies!"

England sighed in aggravation, then slapped America upside the head. "This isn't some bloody movie you bloody git!"

Rubbing his head America went to fight back against England, but decided against it. Then Ivan appeared next to China and wrapped an arm around the black haired nation. "China must escape, _da_?" The other nations nodded in agreement.

"China," Germany addressed his superior, "We need to get you far away from here. Who knows when the Leader will strike." Nodding his head, China stood up and dusted off his pants.

"Well, where should I go, aru?" He clutched his shoulder where his sword was strapped. At those times, he even forgot the weapon was there, for it was practically weightless, but was able to decapitate anyone who stood in his way. For a second he thought of facing the Leader in an attack, but there was no way he could break that armor.

"A place where no one can find you. What if Iggy and I pulled out our old ships and had you hide with the canons?" Spain piped up, motioning between England and himself.

China shook his head in rejection. "No, no one uses pirate ships anymore, aru."

"What about you ride on horseback, staying constantly on the move? I could lend you my strongest steed," Austria offered, for once speaking up, but again China refused.

"It's not common to see someone on horseback when they're not on a track." Austria nodded then returned by Switzerland's side.

The Swiss Nation snorted and pounded his fist on the table he stood beside. "I say we just shoot them."

"We can't do that," Austria bickered, "the bullets can't break that armor. Remember when Hungary tried to fight back? She kept firing at him, but nothing broke through the metal." In defeat Switzerland grumbled under his breath. Even if that nation was neutral in most wars, he loved to shoot objects, or people, that made him angry. Mainly it was Italy whenever he forgets to put pants on.

A small voice spoke up. "What about if China lives in Russia's house? No one's even dared to step foot in there." Everyones' head whipped around to look at Japan, who never states his opinion.

Japan was soft spoken, and usually took America's side in meetings. Because of that Switzerland has been encouraging -more like threatening- Japan to state his own opinions.

Russia nodded at Japan's suggestion, and ruffled the smaller nation's well kept black hair. "What a wonderful idea, _da_? Now I won't be as lonely. How about it, Yao-Yao?"

China sighed. No, he didn't want to live with Russia. Who knew what was in that house? For all he knew, there could've been the bodies of his sisters in there in open caskets. How creepy would that be to stumble upon while getting a drink of water, aru?

"F-Fine, I'll live with Ru- Ivan, aru." China gave up and walked over to the pale blond, who smiled in return.

"We'll have fun Yao-Yao, I promise, _da._" If fun meant being under the torment of the most dangerous nation, then yes… fun. Note the sarcasm.

"All other nations agree? China is to stay with Russia. Any one who disagrees?" No one answered Germany, "Fine, it's settled. China, you should leave with Russia now."

While Russia started to drag China away, he was able to call out to England, "England, look after Hong Kong, aru!" He wasn't able to see England silently say the words, "They've already got him, China."

Russia's house was very large. Despite the snow pounding against the windows, and with no heater on, the house was warm. China was seated in an armchair that seemed to consume his body. It was most likely Russia's, his frame was more fit to fill the chair. A fire was lit in the fireplace that the chair was positioned in front of. So that's where the heat came from. How China missed that he didn't know.

Instead of his green combat uniform, China was ordered to change clothing. Now he was swimming in an old outfit of Russia's. It was a gray overcoat that reached down to his knees, with one of the arms slowly sliding off of his shoulder, and heavy black slacks. A white belt was tightened around his waist to keep the pants, and the coat, from falling off his small frame. To keep his identity safe, China cut his hair. What was once the blanket of silken Asian hair that reached his waist, was now at chin level. When Russia saw his haircut, he accidentally called him Kiku, Japan's real name.

The old nation rubbed his back. His age was starting to catch up to him. A shaky hand reached up and touched the dark purple bags that lay under his eyes. Then he looked at his hands. Wounds from multiple battles scarred his skin, he couldn't remember from where he got all of them. There were other scars along his body, one of them he would never forget how he received it. One scar ran across his back, from shoulder to shoulder. That was when his little brother Japan revolted against him, and slashed his back with a katana blade.

Thinking of Kiku made China's mind wander to the rest of his siblings. Taiwan was never fond of China. She called him a worry wart, and said he was always going to "have a cow". It was beyond him why she favored Japan over himself. He hardly even knew Thailand. Then, there was Im Yong Soo, otherwise known as South Korea. He was always claiming things as his own, such as Japan's breasts. Very often he would get on China's last nerve, and he'd end up snapping at the poor nation. Then there was Hong Kong, the one who was closest to China. He was taken away by England, and forced under his ruling. Not until recently has England released his little brother. Though, China didn't know that. No, China didn't know that Hong Kong was supposed to be on his way back to his house. No, China didn't know that the Leader got to him first. No, China didn't know that England found the thick-eyebrow Asian with a sword stuck in his naval region, with multiple cuts on his body. No, China didn't see the blood caked over his face and torso. No, China didn't see the streaks of tears on his cheeks. China just didn't know, and never would.

Yeah, their family was a dysfunctional, but China missed that. What was life without a little chaos? What was life if he couldn't see his family every once and a while? They got along every once and a while. They were able to influence each other with their cultures. Sometimes they'd dance together when the sakura trees blossomed. They'd gather on the Chinese New Years and drink to a glorious new year. They'd make bets against each other, they'd laugh with each other. They'd… they'd…

"What's wrong Yao?" Russia sat down in the other armchair next to China.

"W-What are y-you t-talking about, a-a-aru?" China choked out. His throat was scratchy, and it was painful for him to talk.

"Your eyes… they're leaking, _da._" Sure enough, China reached up and touched the salty tears that trekked down his face. He went to go wipe his face on his sleeve, but a hand reached out and stopped him.

"What's wrong Yao?" Why did Russia care? All he lived for was to torment and make fun of other countries? Why was he calling him Yao, and not his little nickname "Yao-Yao"? It didn't make sense, aru!

"W-Why do you c-c-care, Russia?" The man reached up and squeezed China's arm. The smaller nation let out a small yelp, as his grip was strong.

"I've told you to call me Ivan, it's my name, not the name my boss gave me," Russia growled, but soon lightened once he saw his guest let out another held back sob. "I care because you're my friend Yao, _da. _You seemed awfully upset when I came back in here. Finding out what's wrong is what friends do… _da_?"

His words shocked China. Did Russia really consider them friends? The thought alone was scary. Friends… with Russia. Never in history has it happened. Alliances yes, friendship, never. But did Russia even mean it? Was he playing one of his cruel jokes? But.. He was trying so hard to unwind China. Maybe he did mean it.

"It's my family, aru," China hugged his knees to his chest, "Taiwan, Thailand, Korea, they're all dead. I couldn't even stop the Leader from killing them all. War has ruined Japan, and Hong Kong is still with England." Russia's concern wavered when he mentioned Hong Kong. Did he not know what happened? He went to correct China, but he was interrupted, "I just want my family back! I want sweet eager Japan to be following in my shadow and become a great nation, instead of the secluded one he is now. I want Korea to be alive, and to work on his own inventions of stealing others. Taiwan was on the right path, if only she'd been a little more respectful, and if only Thailand would spent more time with us! Tà mà de*, aru! It's just not fair! They didn't even do anything wrong! The Leader, he just kills off whoever he wants, because he just wants to! Why doesn't anyone do something about it, aru!? "

Russia patted China's back as he ranted on, letting him vent until he was reduced to a puddle of stutters. "_Da, _I don't know Yao. Maybe people are just to.. consumed in their own business. But you need to move on from your family, _da._ Look at me. I've lost my sisters, and the Soviet Union. Sure, I was sad for a while, but it's natural. You lost your siblings before I did, and you need to move on. Maybe if you spent a little less time mourning, and a little more time trying to become stronger, they'd send you good wishes from wherever they are, _da._" That was the most China had ever heard from Russ- No, Ivan. Russia was a mad weapon of power, used only as a shield in a war. Ivan was a kind man, just a little misunderstood… Okay a lot misunderstood. Wow, when did China start to see his life as a sappy movie? He needed to snap out of it, aru.

"You're right Ru… Ivan, my apologies," China smiled at Ivan, his friend, "But what's going to happen now? I took the blame for America, and the Leader is now going to…"

Together the two stared at the fire. What China meant to say did not need to be spoken. They both knew his fate, they just needed to wait. To wait to see what would happen. China slumped back in his chair and shivered. The cold was suddenly able to reach him.

Seeing his gue- no, his friend, shiver, Russia took off his beloved scarf. He leaned over and wrapped the massive fabric around Chi… Yao's neck and smiled despite the look of shock on the other nation's face. That scarf meant the world to him, as it was his only connection left to Ukraine, who had given him the scarf as a child. There's never been anyone that he'd give the scarf to. Well, someone who didn't mean a lot to him. Yao was his first friend, he deserved to wear the scarf.

The shock soon worn off as China wrapped the ends of the scarf around his hands. The article of clothing was quite long, it reached to the floor without a problem. "T-Thank you, Ivan, aru," China's voice was muffled underneath the fabric, but Ivan seemed to understand, since he nodded in return. Slowly his eyes closed, and China let himself be pulled under a wave of sleep.

**A/N: Has anyone watched Clannad? If so, you know how beautiful the music is. For most of this chapter, I've listened to the background music. It just fits sooo well! Anyways..**

**Tà mà de: Damn it (could mean something else, I did look it up on Google Translator after all. And the a's are supposd to have a straight line above them, but MS Word wouldn't past them correctly, so I had to settle for those .) **

**Bambino: Baby  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter 3! Three parts in one day, this is the most I've written in one day. Probably all week too. I'm proud of this story, even if you people don't think so. ^-^  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!  
**

"Drive you bloody git!"

"I am driving, what do you think I'm doing!?"

"Being a bloody git!"

"Look, this is my car, and I can stop right now if I want to!"

"…Just drive America!"

No, the day didn't turn out normal for America and England. It had been the following day after the Leader confronted their meeting, and threatened China. So England offered to help find hidden routes for China to travel through. He knew his former ally couldn't be cooped up in a house for long. Well, he could if there was plenty of food to make, but that wasn't the case.

The plains ahead of them were empty. The hills rising ever so occasionally, and there was only one open highway. America had the hardest time to keep his head clear of England in a black tuxedo with a sniper gun in hand, and himself dressed as Indiana Jones, whip and all. It didn't help either he was constantly asking to put on some "sweet car chase music". Every time he tried to turn on the radio, the British man would slap his hand and growl words along the lines of "I need some bloody peace and bloody quiet you bloody twat!" Yeah, the multitude of cars behind them, equipped with high-tech guns far beyond their years that were shooting at their old run down truck didn't help much.

It wasn't like they chose to be in their current situation. It wasn't like "Oh, I'm going to be shot to death today." No, it was more of.. A weird incident. America was just driving along, and England was sitting in the passenger's seat marking off places on maps where people didn't visit often. They had been driving for hours, and they weren't paying attention to where they're going.

The old Fords truck lurched to the side as a ball of energy blew a door off its hinges. England, who had been sitting on the side the door was blown off almost fell out of the car. He kept his hands glued to the sides of the door frame and kept himself in the vehicle.

"You alright old man?" America shouted, the noise of bullets whizzing past them almost drowning out his words.

"Y-Yeah!" He responded, eyes wide with terror. He had almost fallen out of the car. At the speed they were going, he could've died. England got himself seated and put his seatbelt on, as it wasn't on before. As he was doing so, the truck suddenly went off road.

All around them chucks of rock and earth were uprooted and flung themselves into the sky. Dust blocked all vision for America and England. Nevertheless the American kept driving. He had no idea where he was going, but he followed his gut. The sounds of waves from the ocean were not too far off. That's it, the ocean! They could escape from there! He read in a book once called Twilight or something-or-other where people jumped off cliffs into the ocean and lived. As the hero, America knew he could live through the dive too, and there was plenty of hero in him for England to survive to.

"Hold on Iggy!" America slammed on the gas pedal. Multiple bullets shot through the rear-view window, and through the windshield. Using one of his arms to guard his face, the nation checked over his older brother, seeing him relaxed in the seat. How could he be relaxed at a time like this? …Was England talking to his faeries again? How many times did America have to tell him they didn't exist!? Apparently not too many.

Once the glass stopped flying, America used a hand to shake England's body. "Hey, Old Man, you okay in that head of yours?" There was no response. At first, he just thought the old man was ignoring him, as he usually did. He hated it when that happened. America liked talking to England, they were brothers, friends, the best of friends. They liked to fight, so what? They had a great childhood, despite the Revolutionary War, that was long in the past. Finally were they able to put that in the past, even if they still had their bumps in the road.

"Old Man?" America turned his gaze away from the plains ahead of him and looked at England square on. Lively sapphires locked with dull emeralds. It was then America saw why England never responded. Shards of glass were stuck in the other nation's chest, blood still freshly oozing from the wounds. The same irony liquid spilled from the open mouth on his face. Messy blond hair was tinted brown dust. A ring of crimson dripped from the head of the passenger's seat. Suddenly, England's body slouched forward, and the hole in the back of his head was revealed.

"…England? Iggy…? ….Arthur?" He couldn't stop repeating England's multiple names over and over, hoping to revive the fallen nation. His brother still stayed slouched over. "Damn it! God damn it! You weren't meant to die Iggy! You just weren't! He said that China would suffer, not you! I still need you! I'm just a stupid nation who just barges into other peoples' business, I don't know what I'm doing! My economy is falling further into destruction more and more everyday! At least you can give me guidance through the meetings, and keep me from saying things stupid. Even if you don't do a good job at times! The thing is Iggy, nobody is ready to have you die yet! The world still needs you Iggy! You and your awful scones!" America shouted at the body. There was a little hope inside of him that his old friend would reawaken and slap him silly for calling his cooking bad. Alas, the body did no such thing. The body just lay breathless, motionless. The occasional movement when the truck when over a bump, nothing else. America sighed, and ran a hand through England's hair. If he had anything to say to him, now was the chance.

"Arthur, I'm sorry for being such a 'pain in the bloody arse'," America laughed, only to suddenly feel water rush into his throat. Where.. had all the water come from? Why was he feeling so weak? What was happening to him? Using the last bit of strength, America saw where he was: under the ocean. Then, he was with his brother.

* * *

The following day, Canada was sitting on the couch with his papa France looking at the newspaper. The headline reading, "THE LAND OF THE FREE AND THE LAND OF THE TEA FALL, LITTERALLY" caught their attention most of all. The picture showed a car driving off a cliff. Canada clearly recognized it as America's old Ford. He knew England was in the car with him, for they had been told of their business the previous day. Canada clutched his pet polar bear Kumajiro closer to his chest.

The bear looked up at his owner. "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada," he replied.

That was Canada, also known as Matthew Williams, a boy who was often forgotten about, even if he was the twin brother of America. There were many similarities between the two, such as facial structure, messy hair, and the fact they wear glasses. However, Canada's blond hair was a shade darker, and had was wavy like 'papa' France's. A stray stand of hair curled in loops off the side of his head. His eyes were a slightly darker shade of blue, and unlike his brother, his eyes shook with shyness. Usually he was dressed in a red sweatshirt with a white maple leaf printed on the back, and jeans. At times when he was at meetings he usually wore a pair of sporting goggles on the top of his head, though since he was at home, his head was bare.

"Papa-"

"_Chut_*, my boy. Everything will be alright," France smoothed the hair on his son's head. Guilt still rattled around in Canada's head. He was never a fan of his brother America. In fact, he loathed the nation. That didn't mean he didn't miss him. But he couldn't quite shake off the uneasy feeling in his head.

"But Papa, I said something so.. _signifier _to him the day before that meeting.. I never even got to apologize." Burying his head into Kumajiro's fur, he sighed in frustration.

"What was so mean that put you in this state?" He continued rubbing Canada's head, who was shaking slightly. When he didn't get a response, he started to rub the other nation's back. Slowly the shaking lessened, and a teary-eyed head was lifted.

"I told him.. '_Je vous hais*!_'"

"I see. Why, _mon fils_*?"

"Well.. He was making me so mad. I tried to tell him to stop getting into so much trouble. First with Cuba, then Germany, Japan, and Italy, then with Afghanistan, then Iraq. And guess who has to pay for it? Me! I don't like getting beaten with ice cream, or bananas, or any other stupid weapon on a daily basis. So before the day of… _that_ meeting. I told him I hated him. I was going to apologize today, but after seeing the paper I…" There was no need for Canada to continue. Heck, the nation couldn't continue. Like a similar Italian, he fell into a heap of sobs. All France could do was comfort his son the best he could, which wasn't well. France was more of a lover, not a comforter.

"_Chut, chut, chut_," Softly hushing the smaller country into sniffles, France let him fall asleep on the couch. That was one easy thing about comforting Canada, he stopped crying easily. With his son safely asleep on the couch, France took the newspaper and walked into one of the many hallways of his house.

France's house was very massive, though it consisted mostly of hallways. Pillars lined the hallways, completely filling the twelve foot space between the floor and ceiling. And every hallway was decorated with various statues and pieces of art. Most pieces of art came from his little brother Italy, who kept bugging him to return them. No way in Paris was that ever going to happen.

While gazing at a battlefield painting that hung on the wall, France folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. As he blissfully took his time looking at all the portraits and paintings, the nation didn't notice a figure lurking in the shadows.

_Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank. _

At the sound of metal plates trudging around the corridors, France whipped around. No one was there. Squinting to look further, only to see nothing, France shrugged and continued on his way.

"_Dites moi* ...Dites moi ...Dites moi …" _A vaguely familiar voice echoed through the hall.

Stopping in his tracks France stiffened. "Tell you what?"

"_Où est il?*_"

He knew who the voice was talking about: China. France slowly inched his hand into the pocket on the inside of his overcoat. Inside there was a knife which he kept for emergencies. When there's a man intent of 'playing' with his former ally, and possibly him, that was called an emergency.

France turned around to face his hidden enemy. "How about I tell you where he is not, you _âne*_!" But before he could pull out his knife, a flash of black metal, a silver pistol, and a shower of red rain filled his vision. As he lay on the ground, his last sight were rose petals cascading gently from the ceiling.

Back in the living room of the mansion, a boy lay motionless on the couch. His dark blond hair lay askew. The normal bouncy curl that lay separate from his head was straightened. What used to be his red sweatshirt was now ripped to shreds, his back exposed to the suddenly chilled air of the house. Slashes, thousands of them, burned the pale flesh of the boy's back. What lay in his arms was a small polar bear, one by the name of Kumajiro. A once perfect white coat was now decorated with a sickening liquid, the smell of iron radiated off of the body. The liquid caked the hand which covered a hole that burned through his back and stomach. The rest of the body was hidden by the boy, who's face was contorted in pain. Eyes closed, bottom lip bit, and no screaming. Matthew Williams joined his father.

**A/N: Clannad music really helps me write! Just half of another chapter then I can go to bed _, then I have to finish the last three chapters in order to have this ready for school on Monday -slumps on desk-.  
**

**Translations (Again, I used an online translator for these, so don't blame me if these are wrong):  
**

**Chut: Hush **

**Signifier: Mean **

**Je vous hais: I hate you**

**Mon fils: My son**

**Dites moi: Tell me**

**Où est il: Where is he**

**âne: Ass  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter 4! I know I said this was slight GerIta and Spamano, and it's hard to write their relationships very slightly, so you'll have to squint ^-^;;. If only this wasn't for my English homework, then everyone would be making out with each other. Okay so maybe not making out, but they'd at least kiss D:. Anyways, on with chapter 4!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, sadly.  
**

Italy stood in the kitchen of his home. Red tinted his cheeks as he stirred the pasta in the pot on the stove. It would be a while until it'd be ready to eat, so he moved away from the stove and started chopping up vegetables to add to the sauce. While preparing his lunch he hummed a tune under his breath.

It had been a few days after the meeting, and all the nations returned to their home. Since the Leader had already found them, there would've been no reason to carry on the meeting. After all, if they had carried it on, the Leader would've found them again. They couldn't risk another run in with him.

As usual, Italy had remained obvious to the newspapers that were piled up on his kitchen table. Articles of the French and Canadian countries collapsing went completely unnoticed. That was just Italy though, he hated bad news. The news was always full of bad news, so he never read the newspaper. Though, Germany kept bringing the newspapers, insisting that he should read them. However, that never worked out well, as Italy ended up crying while saying that he didn't want to.

Ah yes, Germany. He was over at Italy's house that day. For a while he'd been avoiding the Italian, but when he was invited over, there was no escape. He just hated seeing Italy cry when he refused to visit, and it didn't help that he kept seeing visions of a sad baby Italy in his memories. Those visions confused him, as he'd never met Italy when he was a child. He didn't even remember most of his childhood.

Then, there was a loud crash coming from the living room of his house.

"Germany, w-what happened, ve?" Italy called out to his friend, his voice trembling. A few minutes passed, and he got no response from the German nation. _Did something happen to Germany? _Italy shook his head. No, Germany was strong, no one is able to hurt him. Germany was okay.

Just to be sure, Italy put his knife down and took off the apron that was loosely tied around his waist. He headed towards the living room of his house. Thankfully, his house wasn't very large, as he was never able to rebuild it, since he kept being taken over by other countries. Also, his house was shared by his brother Romano.

The living room was connected to the kitchen through two large, Victorian style doors. His hands shook as he gripped the two handles, and pulled the doors open. A slight wave of dizziness shook him as he stepped into the room, and he fell over. Though, he was soon able to pull himself back up. Ah, he tripped on the rug. How did he forget he put one near the door?

Everything was in it's original place. The sleek, wooden floorboards were intact, along with the leather couches that lay near the center of the room. The coffee table wasn't toppled over, and neither was the cabinets holding classical music cd's. His piano wasn't smashed to pieces either. Good, everything in perfect condition.

When Italy came upon the familiar head of slicked back blond hair, he smiled. "Germany! The pasta's almost ready, ve!" He sat down on the couch next to his friend. Germany was finally dressed in something other than his combat clothes; he was always cautious, but after a little annoyance from Italy, he changed. Italy tugged on the sleeve of his green polo shirt, but stopped.

What was happening? Germany's face was slowly changing, and his body was shrinking. What was once the tall, muscular friend of Italy, was now the small, round body of a long lost friend. His shirt and slacks morphed into a long, black tunic and tan breeches. His blond hair was still slicked back, but his cold blue eyes were warmer when his eyes hooked with Italy's.

Italy couldn't believe his eyes. Was it really…?

"Holy Roman Empire..?"

"I'm Ge…" The long lost friend tried to reply, but his voice was fading. Everything was fading. The walls seemed to melt like a popsicle on a summer day. Italy rushed over to try and touch the walls, but his hand slipped right through them. Where was Germany? If Germany was here, he could stop whatever was happening! He always did! Germany was the one who saved Italy whenever he was captured by another country when they were allies. Germany was the one who fed him wurst and cheese when he was captured during World War I. Germany even gave him a job when his country fell into a depression. Ve, it was fun making coo-coo clocks with him. He just needed Germany there to put everything back to the norm.

Why was Holy Roman Empire there anyways? He fell long ago after the Thirty Years War! How dare he come back after all these years of avoiding Italy! He even said he would always love the Italian nation, but why would he just stay hidden? Questions kept spinning in Italy's head. Were the questions spinning, or was it the room that was spinning? The room was now a spinning myriad of colors. The Holy Roman Empire was the only nonmoving object.

"Holy Roman Empire, what's happening?" All his friend did was mouth words at him. Italy couldn't read lips! What was he saying? Why was he slowly growing smaller? Wait, come back! Italy reached his hand out, but then, the colors stopped. From above, a pair of red eyes sneered in glee.

* * *

"Where is that tomato bastard?" Romano trudged down the streets of southern Italy. Usually he didn't spend his days leisurely wandering the streets, but he had to find tomato bas- Spain. Why he didn't walk around in his own country? Well, ever since the Leader let his brainwashed zombies roam as they wish, they seemed to be attracted to the landscape of Italy. Didn't help either they gobbled down their food like machines. Also, they were curious as to how he could live for hundreds of years without aging on the outside. How would he know? Romano thinks its weird when people live for such a short amount of time. Pft, non-nation people are so ridiculous.

Anyways, Romano had checked all over Italy for Spain. He wasn't at the pet store, looking at the turtles. He wasn't at the clothing store, trying to buy a dress to get Romano to wear -how many times did he tell that idiot he wasn't going to wear a dress! He wasn't at the tomato stands, but that didn't stop Romano from buying a tomato. …He didn't have a weakness for tomatoes, pfft, no way, _chigi_!

"Oi! Romano, look what I got!" Oh dear god, please no. A ball of curly brown hair tackled Romano to the ground in a hug. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a _ball_ per say, it was more of a person. A person who lived to torment him with his annoying-ness. A person who made it his life to embarrass Romano, making his face redder than any tomato. A person who's looked after Romano since he was a child. Okay, so that person was Spain.

"What do you want you jackass?" Romano snapped, quite irritated with getting his good dress shirt ruined. Same Spain, just _loved_ getting all of his clothes dirty. He was probably trying to ruin all of his clothes to he'd wear a dress again like he did as a child. No! Never again would he be mistaken for a girl!

"Romano! Such language!"

"I've used this language all my life you bastard!"

"Still… you should watch it, there are little kids around," Spain pointed with his thumb over to a little girl and boy who looked at Romano with wide eyes. Well, looked like they learned some new words. Not his fault, nope, not at all.

"Just get on with it Spain, what do you want?"

"Well, I got you this dress!" From behind his back the Spaniard pulled a pink sundress covered in fills and lace. Romano's face blew up in a rage of red tomato fury.

"I AM NOT WEARING THAT FUCKING DRESS YOU BASTARD_, CHIGIII_!" In a huff, Romano stomped on Spain's foot before stalking off.

That idiot Spain, when will he realize that Romano wasn't a little kid anymore. Even after being beaten and humiliated by England, America, and France, he still manages to hold a smile on his face. How does he do that? Even after years of being sworn at, stomped on, and punched by a baby Romano, he could still laugh. That country was too damn happy for his liking. Yet, not that he would admit it, he enjoyed Spain's company. It was much better than being surrounded by the Leader's cronies.

"I'll get you to wear it one day little Lovi!" Not. That. Nickname. Lovino was Romano's real name, his human name. LovinoVargas. Spain just **had** to name him Lovi, that damn tomato bastard.

Romano spun around to look at Spain, who was following him. "Why are you following me anyways? I told you I'm not wearing that dress."

Spain, who recovered from the foot stomping, bounced up to Romano's side. "I wanted to go to your house. I wanted to visit little Feli!" Feli, that was the nickname for Romano's brother, Italy. Italy's real name was Feliciano Vargas, or in Spain's case, Feli.

Ugh, Feli. He had that potato basta- Germany over. Oh how Romano loathed him. Then again, he loathed a lot of things, mainly foreign things, like potatoes and cheese. They just didn't taste good with his dishes. Okay, so pizza needed cheese, and some pasta. But that smelly cheese from Switzerland made him want to lose his breakfast.

"Fine," Romano grumbled, "Just don't ruin my kitchen."

Spain punched his fist in the air, "Lunch date with Romano!"

"It's not a date, _chigii_!!"

After walking around in the Italian market places for hours, the Italian and the Spanish nations returned home. Spain rushed into the house, looking for the kitchen. The two Italian brothers' houses were connected via kitchen. There were two glass doors that slid open revealing a balcony. The balcony was also connected to Italy's house, where the two could walk back in forth when cooking. From the little island in the center of the kitchen, Romano could see a pot of pasta cooking on the stove, with his brother cutting vegetables up nearby happily. Then he looked off in another direction, and left the kitchen. What was his brother up to? Oh well, probably something with that potato bastard.

"Romano, did you just call Germany a potato bastard?"

"No, _chigii!" _

"Romano.."

"Okay fine, I did"

"Don't, it's rude."

"Whatever," Romano took a lasagna out of the refrigerator, and placed it in the oven. He prepared it that morning, but didn't cook it. After setting the oven for the right temperature, and set the timer, he turned to the Spanish nation.

"Don't touch anything jackass, I'm going to take a shower."

Spain jokingly saluted, "Yes sir!" That made Romano roll his eyes.

Romano headed up the stairs that coiled up to the ceiling. Above the kitchen was his bedroom, with his personal shower. He was oblivious to the red eyes in the shadows that watched his every move. The pupils turned into slits in the bright light of the house, and watched the Spanish man. Yes, everything was almost in place. The eyes cheered and set off to work.

Romano had finished showering fifteen minutes later. His dark auburn hair was dripping wet, and the stray curl on the left side of his head relaxed. On the bathroom counter were neatly folded clothing. He slipped on the boxers, tan khaki pants, a pink dress shirt, and leather loafers. Then just drying his hair with his towel, Romano headed back down into the kitchen.

Though, something was off. A weird smell drifted around his nose. What was it? It was… smoke!? Why was there smoke? ..The lasagna! Spain, what did you do?

Trying to move quickly, Romano tripped down the stairs. Landing head first he struggled to get up. The smell of smoke was stronger now, and he heard cackling. No, not a laughter kind of cackling, a ripping kind of cackling. Rubbing the back of his head, he looked up. A wall of red and orange clouded his vision. A monster of heat looked down on him, laughing. In its teeth was a face he grew to love and hate; Spain.

"Antonio!" Romano went to go reach for his friend, but the monster waved a clawed hand at him. The heat caught his sleeve. The claws tore at his skin, and he cried out in pain.

"Antonio," Romano tried to call to the Spaniard, who hung limp in the jaws of the monster, though his voice was only a mere whisper. His eyes leaked when he looked over the body of his friend, and former boss. Flesh leaking of the oh-to-familiar crimson poison. Muscle burnt away, cracked bones flashing in the light of the monster, still embedded in the same skin. A mouth open in a silent scream, eyes pleading to Romano, wishing for help. If only Romano could've give him that wish, but he was too busy cooking pasta with his brother and Grandpa Rome.

**A/N: Just one more chapter, then this fanfic will be done, and my English homework will be done ^-^. I better get a good grade on this D. **

**Aaaah, no translations this chapter. At least I believe there are no translations needed. -skims over chapter- Nope! Oh Clannad, your music is still an inspiration to me. **

**Here's a spoiler: Japan is gonna be in the next chapter ;D.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Japan's part sucks. I have a hard time writing him, he just doesn't say much Dx. Anywaaaays. Enjoy the last chapter (while I enjoy the fact my English homework is done)! Review please awesome people? xD;**

Japan sat under his kotatsu, sighing ever-so-slightly. He was finally away from his boss. That man never ceased in his weird schemes, as he wanted Japan to become 'friends' with the Leader. Japan didn't want that. He was perfectly content with the friends he has. Well, had.

Only recently did Japan read about how his closest friend, America, was killed. Actually, the news reporters said it was an act of suicide. Japan wasn't stupid though. It was the Leader, he just knew it. America wouldn't ever commit suicide, not even in the darkest hours. Even when his economy crashed after World War I, or when it crashed again later on. America wasn't so weak as to take the 'easy way' out of life. America took things head on.

Then there was Japan's other friend England. They weren't as close as he and America, but they've visited each other's houses before. England was a bit.. Weird. He kept insisting there was someone else in the house with them, when in fact, Japan lived alone. England probably had too much sake. He was told that the English nation was a heavy drinker.

Japan looked over the other newspapers as he ate the rice placed on the top of his kotatsu table. He shifted his position under the blankets as he saw one headline that disturbed him. Germany and Italy were… dead?

He could never forget his times with Germany and Italy during World War II, especially when they got stranded on that island. Italy introduced him to smores, a concoction he never imagined possible. He chuckled when he thought of Italy building that giant sand sculpture of pasta. It looked so lifelike, but that just proved how talented Italy was in art. That reminded him, Japan still had a book that he borrowed from Italy. It had pictures of all the sculptures Italy's Grandpa Rome built before he collapsed.

Then there was Germany. The friendship between the two was… stiff. Germany helped train Japan for facing war against the Allies Powers. He seemed more friendly to Italy though. Who couldn't be around Italy and not befriend him? Japan and Germany still remained semi-friends after World War II, and they exchanged fighting tactics. In fact, Japan was planning to try and teach Germany kendo.

One article grabbed his attention. One about a country he had grown to be fond of. His russet eyes scanned the newspaper, and his hands shook when he finished. It couldn't be true. Could it? To make sure he wasn't dreaming, Japan read the article again, then he pinched himself. The small yip that he made when he pinched his leg confirmed it wasn't a dream.

"Greece-san," was all he mumbled. He wasn't the type to start crying. He was the type to silently ride it out. Yes, the grief he felt for Greece would pass.. Eventually. Even though the two were the closest thing they had for friends. In all actuality, he wasn't sure where their relationship stood. There was still that confusing day when Japan first visited Greece. At first they got along fine, as they both shared the love for cats. Somehow, they got onto the subject of sex. Next thing he knew, he woke up in bed with Greece. To that day whenever someone brought it up, he said it was all just a dream.

Japan looked down at his lap. He felt a strange urge. He wanted his eyes to tear up, but not a single drop came. That was one let down of hiding his emotions for so long, his body didn't know how to react to emotions. He was Japan. He was to never say a word, and always analyze the situation, and refrain himself from speaking. . He was to always answer questions with the word "No".

Still, why did he feel that nagging feeling in his chest? He and Greece were just _friends._ Well, they were the closest friends could be, even if all they did was talk about cats when they were together.

Japan looked to the side of the room. There was a chest where a katana blade had rested on its stand. That was the blade he fought with in all of his wars. It was also the blade he used to attack China his… brother. Japan pushed the blanket from the kotatsu table off of himself and stood. His bare feet shuffled against the tatami mats and he stood in front of the chest.

"_Gomen nasai, Nekokichi-san_," Japan lifted the sword. The tip pointed at the cloth that lay on his stomach. Slowly the sword penetrated the flesh. Slowly his white kimono stained scarlet. Toppling over, Japan didn't utter a single word. That's how he always was, and always would be.

Outside of Japan's home, red eyes observed from the sky. They smirked. The Asian fell for it. Now, almost all were out of the way. Yes, the time for judgment was soon.

He never moved. China still sat in the same arm chair in Russia's house. The fire was still alive, thanks to Russia. Around his neck the scarf still lay. China was thankful for it, as it was very warm. For some reason or another, Russia had his windows wide open. There was at least three feet of snow outside, doesn't he know he wasn't used to cold! Apparently not, aru.

A light tune of a piano playing fluttered through the air. China lifted his head looking in different directions. Who would be playing the piano? Surely not Russia, he didn't know how to play. There were no other people in the house, he knew that for sure.

After unfolding his legs from a sitting position, China slipped himself off of the arm chair. Numbness from his legs made him topple over, and right onto the floor. He rolled himself onto his back, and for the first time, China saw the beauty of Russia's house.

Despite the rumors of Russia's house just a giant cage for weapons, it was actually well decorated.

The ceiling looked to be thousands of feet away from the ground. On the ceiling was a map of the world, surprisingly Russia didn't have his country in the middle of it all. The walls were a dark brown, and glossed like wood. The fireplace was outlined with white marble, the inside chalked with charcoal and ash. Four pillars were placed in each corner of the room, each pillar had a prayer carved in Russian, though China had no idea what it meant. Along the walls were pictures of Russia and his family. He could clearly make out the face of Ukraine and Belarus, the Russian nation's sisters. Then there were the nations that Russia loved to torment; Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania. There was one lone rug on the wooden floor. It was a dark auburn, and soft to the touch. Then there was just the two arm chairs which China had been positioned in for the past week.

China straightened himself up and rose from the floor. He moved his head side to side, hearing a satisfying crack. Then he wrapped the scarf around his neck again, seeing how the accessory almost touched the floor. There was a major height difference between Russia and himself. While the scarf only went down to Russia's waist, it went down to his knees, even while wrapped around his neck.

Now, where was he supposed to go? Ah yes, where the music was coming from. Closing his eyes, China concentrated. After blocking out the sound of the wood cracking from the fire, he knew where the sound was coming from; outside. How was there music outside? Well, there was only one way to find out, aru.

He didn't even pay attention to where his feet brought him. The snow didn't even numb his legs as he pushed through the mountainous piles. To any passer-by, he would've been seen as crazy. No one really went plowing through piles of snow, eyes closed. Actually, no one was used to seeing China up in the Russian country. After all, the citizens had read books on how the country has been avoiding Russia since the dawn of time. Though no book could really explain their complicated friendship.

He stopped moving. There were noises other than the piano. China opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of a shopping market. Now that he thought about it, that market place wasn't there when Russia brought him up to his house the previous week. How odd. Well, maybe he could ask someone if they heard a piano, as he could faintly hear the light notes stroke his ears with that vaguely familiar melody.

"Excuse me, aru!" The Chinese nation called out to a merchant who had hats for sale.

The merchant looked up at China, then back at his merchandise. "What is it?"

"Do you hear a piano?" He asked hopefully.

"A piano? A piano way out here would be outrageous, your ears must be out of whack," the merchant grumbled, then rearranged the hats.

Raising an eyebrow, he pressed further. "Are you sure, aru?"

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh. …Well, yes, I'm quite sure. There hasn't been a piano on this mountain for many years."

Wait, he wasn't even there for many years, he wasn't even there the other day!

"Well, do you know if any houses are around here?"

"If you buy one of my hats," the merchant held out a hat. It was black and white, the pattern familiar. China reached out to touch it, and even the fabric was familiar. Wait.. Was that… Panda fur? What kind of sick man would make a hat out of the pelt of a panda, aru! "I'm not giving you any more information unless you buy one of my hats mister."

"Fine," China grumbled and pulled out twenty _yuan_. To his dismay the merchant wouldn't accept the money.

"I don't take that kind."

"Well couldn't you just convert it to Russian money?"

"No, I don't take their kind of money either."

"Well, what kind of money do you take?"

"I take pounds." …This merchant. In Russia. Took. Pounds!? He wasn't in England, why would he need that money, aru!?

"You're not in England! In fact your millions of miles away from England! Why do you need pounds!?" China exploded in the merchant's face.

The merchant replied in a robotic tone, "The God of all that is Ego told us we could accept money in any form we wanted, and are allowed to refuse any money we didn't want. What I want, is pounds. After all, the God of all that is Ego wants us to look after ourselves, and ourselves alone."

"Who is this god?" China asked.

"The one with the red eyes." Red…eyes? How did those seem to ring a bell? …The Leader from the meeting. He had red eyes.

"Yes, now buy a hat or get lost!" Since China had no pounds, he walked away from the stand.

China looked around the market place. All around there were flags waving in the blizzard wind. All of them red and had the word "Ego" in black print in the center. "Ego"? What colony based their whole government off of that word, or their whole lives for that matter? What kind of selfish bastards were they? It was times like that China missed the days of the world consisting of just him and his family in Asia.

People in that civilization sure were weird. There was a variety of age groups in the market place. Though no one talked to the other, unless they were haggling from merchants. Every human, even the little children, had greedy looks in their eyes, mixed in was an edge of distrust. Off to the edge of the market place China saw two children fighting. A boy was punching another boy in the face.

"Give me that toy!" One boy said.

"Why?" The boy being beaten asked.

"Because I want it, the God said I could have whatever I wanted!"

What was the world turning into, aru? Shaking his head, China concentrated. The boys fighting, the bartering, the merchants trying to call people to their stands, it was all blocked out. The piano. Where was it? Where was that sound?

_Wait.. _

China clenched his eyes shut.

_Was that it? _

A soft tune reached his ears.

_Yes. _

He could almost hear the music speaking to him.

"_Dào wo zhèli lái, wo de háizi." _

China opened his eyes and ran off in the direction of the voice, the music. While on his way, he pushed the two boys apart. Just because he had another job to do, doesn't mean he'd let two children fight on the account of greed. No, that reminded him too much of some of the other countries.

The market place melted as he ran away. The forest surrounding him once again. Flashes of green, white, and brown flew past him as he ventured deeper and deeper. The voice called out to him once again.

"_Dào wo zhèli lái, wo de háizi. Qing gēnsuí wo de shēngyīn?" _

He was following the voice! Couldn't it realize that? The voice kept repeating itself over and over. Each time a little louder than the last. Animals seemed oblivious to the voice, China noted, as they didn't even react to his shouting out to the voice. Even he didn't realize he was shouting. Everything just seemed so… surreal. He couldn't control himself in this state of mind.

His legs wouldn't carry him any further. China found himself in the middle of en empty field. Trees bordered the field in a large circle. The trees were gently covered in a thin layer of snow. The same snow glazed the ground. It appeared no one had step foot through the field, as no footprints made tracks through the powdery substance. Up in the sky the moon was surrounded by clouds, and moonlight danced down to the center of the field. The light, it was calling to him. Just step forward, China told himself, that's all he had to do.

Just.

Step.

Forward.

_Dào wo zhèli lái, wo de háizi._

The voice suddenly grew figure as the moonlight shimmered. The snow spun around in a vortex, slowly giving shape to this calling. Arms, legs, torso, and head, all in a shape China knew.

But could it be? No, it wasn't possible.. But it was…

"Hong Kong!" China stumbled towards his brother. Same old Hong Kong. Same neatly kept brown hair, same red mandarin shirt that Taiwan gave him, same old little brother, even with the thick eyebrows England made him grow when under control of him. Wrapping up his brother in an embrace, China wept. Over and over he repeated "I missed you little brother!"

Then reality hit him.

China kept Hong Kong away at arm's length. "How did you end up here?"

Hong Kong smiled softly and said in a polite tone, "England told me you were returning home, then on my way I passed Japan, who said you went to live with Russia. I just got lost on the way, Big Brother China."

"Well, we can find out way back to Russia's house. I'm sure I can find a way back."

"Okay, Big Brother China."

Wow, Hong Kong sure has worked on his manners. He never called China "Big Brother China", he just usually called him "China". Maybe England taught him a thing or two.

China walked back towards where he entered the field. He motioned for Hong Kong to follow. However, he didn't move from the ring of moonlight. China waved over to him, trying to get him to move. Still, Hong Kong didn't move.

"Hong Kong, you coming?" The other nation shook his head. "Why not?"

"I need to show you something first, come over here." What could he possibly want to show him? There was nothing in the field besides snow, trees, and sky. China made his way and stood in front of Hong Kong.

"What is it?" China asked. Hong Kong studied his face for a long time. Shuffling his feet China tried to avert his gaze. However, he was transfixed on Hong Kong's face. Then, that's when Hong Kong changed. His once thing brown eyes morphed into haunting, cat-like red eyes. His clothes transformed into the impenetrable black armor that he knew all too well. His hair rose into the sky, gluing together into spikes of gold, and his skin paled until it was a golden tan of a god.

He closed his eyes and spoke. "I wanted to show you, this." Metal struck skin. A double edged sword was gripped in the Leader's hand. It angled down, and China's eyes trailed the blade until he stopped at his chest. Blood trailed on the blade, until it dripped onto his feet and snow.

China looked into the eyes of the Leader. "I-Is this my p-punishment?"

The Leader laughed. "No," he said, "This was merely one of your punishments."

"O-One of them?"

"Yes, didn't you know? All of your friends, the other nations, they're long gone now. Dead like the trash they were. I shot England in the back of his head, I had America drive off a cliff, I whipped Canada and his little pet, I shot France on his heart, I gassed Germany and Northern Italy, then I set aflame Romano's house, killing him and Spain, then, I forged the newspaper to have Japan believe Greece was dead, in the end he committed seppuku on himself. And now, as we speak, Russia is being driven to the point of insanity. Heh, I even killed your little brother. Your little, Hong Kong. He certainly was fun to slaughter."

China tried to speak, but he found it hard to breathe. Why, why would this man.. No.. this monster, kill all of his friends?

"Why did I kill them?" The Leader smirked, completely reading China's mind, "Because you broke the number one rule of Ego: Rely only on yourself, not on others. It was the way of my great grandfather, and now I have carried on his wish. This world will be ruled by the God of all that is Ego, or myself, if you will. You nations disgust me. Do you really think that finding help from _others_ can keep you alive? No, the only way to determine your life is the hard work of you alone! No, you countries had to create pacts of peace, become allies, and trade between one another. Even you, China. You created a 'family' between the other Asian nations. You didn't do a good job did you? In fact, they saw the errors in your ways, which was why you all grew apart. Because they hated your little 'family'."

Shut up. They never hated China, they had fun times.

"The other nations didn't even like you."

Yes they did, they enjoyed China's company.

"They just wanted you for your food and your land."

Countries don't use other countries like that.

"Even Russia used you."

Russia would never use China, they were friends.

"Even the Italy brothers hated you."

They had too kind of souls to feel such an emotion, even Romano.

"To this day, Japan could never accept you as an older brother, not even when he's dead." The Leader lifted the sword from China's chest. He reared his arm back, and slashed the blade against the base of China's neck.

China stared as the Leader stepped over the falling nation's body. The moon revealed itself once again. Clouds circled around the glowing rock before they completely evaporated from the night sky, and moonlight started to dance once again. Constellations that China learned throughout the ages decorated the blanket of black. He tried to smile, but his body would not move. It was impossible, but it really did happen. Even the stars moved. The constellations arranged into the figures and faces he cherished, and the faces he fought. The nations, the countries, his friends, his family, the world.

The faces of his family seemed to smile when China felt himself being lifted into the air. He himself was morphing into a new form. Hands, feet, body, and face became stars as China was placed next to his friend Russia, and his brother Japan.

Japan turned to his brother. "_Yōkoso, Chūgoku onii-san." _

**A/N: Waaa, the fanfic's done. I felt so bad killing off everyone ;w;. Oh well, it makes for good English homework. I just need to give Hidekaz Himaruya the credit for creating Hetalia and all the characters so my teacher doesn't accuse me of plagiarism, that'd be really bad o.o. Anways, I hope you guys enjoyed the fanfic :D  
**

**Translations:  
**

**Gomen nasai, Nekokichi-san: I'm sorry, Mr. Nekokichi.**

**Dào wo zhèli lái, wo de háizi: Come to me, my child.**

**Qing gēnsuí wo de shēngyīn: Won't you follow me?**

**Yōkoso, Chūgoku onii-san: Welcome, Big Brother China.**


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